Okkkkk everybody. Here is my first crack at a blog. I have been meaning to get one started for some time now, but as usual, I am a little behind the times (but I will attempt to get everyone--assuming people will actually read my mumblings-- up to date somewhat). Well, I arrived in Senegal on the 28th of January, so it has been almost a month that I have been here...Wow that's surprising for me to write. I have been in Africa for a month. Hmmmmm. Interesting. Hahaa. I couldn't previously imagine casually writing about it, but Senegal has already become a home away from home. It is pretty remarkable. But I will get to my Senegal (or as Vinca likes to call it "Senny"--I like saying Senny more than Senegal so if I write Senny, don't be alarmed) adventures soon enough. Firstly, I must not forget about the first leg of my trip: Paris and my second family who is there (As you will soon find out, my travels have been very family oriented).

Yes Paris. Well, I arrived in Paris on the on the 17th of January and left on the 28th. It was a fabulous 11 days full of hustle & bustle, avoiding getting hustled, and late night cheese eating. Ooooo I really miss French cheese right now (give me some Camembert!!!). But anyway, despite sleeping until 1 p.m. many mornings, I managed to do an incredible amount. I saw all of the sites on my own (Notre-Dame, Montmartre and the Sacre Coeur, the Opera, the Obelisk, Les Invalides, and of course the Eiffel Tower, etc, etc......). I call this time alone in Paris the "Benson the rugged explorer period." These were very fun and satisfying times because I pretty much did as I wanted and took my time and explored parts of Paris that I wouldn't have otherwise seen and did things that I wouldn't have otherwise done; (like visting an outdoor food market in the African section or beginning to take a nap in the peaceful and architecturally profound Notre-Dame, but instead getting sucked into a Catholic mass (yeah I know, really?), or being hollered at and harassed by pimps and "dancers" near the Moulin Rouge (single white tourist male = fresh meat). It was also extremely interesting to simply ride the extensive Parisian metro system (there is nothing quite like being crammed in a car with a bunch of frenchies!!!!). But seriously, it was great to learn the unspoken metro rules (that being, you got it, no one speaks!!), learn to deal with musicians and beggars (whom are always actively trying hustle you for money, which is different from those in the U.S.), and to eavesdrop on the occasional conversation in order to try and improve my french comprehension. Furthermore, seeing Paris, the neighborhoods, and the people that are the soul of the city was worth the farecard (it is a very racially, ethnically, and culturally diverse city contrary to the beliefs of many people).

Another aspect of my Paris trip was the "Benson the American homie" period. This was my time spent with Clement (my French friend and brother) and his friends. I just realized that I didn't introduce my French family. Well, it is the Herrmann family and there is Jean-Louis (father), Marie-Annick (mother), Clement (bother-20 years old), and Mathieu (brother-17 years old). They all live in an apartment just outside Paris in a town called Bourg-la-Reine. Anyway, this period included me hanging in the Bourg-la-Reine park (immense and beautiful in a very human manipulated way) walking, talking, and footballing. It also included me going to a stand-up comedy and musical show (didn't really understand what was going on, but it was somehow still very entertaining). Here, we met a sort of self-promoting hustler by the name of Sam de Paname (Paname is slang for Paris by the way). When he found out that I was American, the first thing he said was, "I love Big Macs." I just kind of laughed and smiled, but I was thinking. "Gee, that's a pretty cliche and stereotypical thing to say. You're not that funny." Little did I know at the time, but in no more than 15 minutes I would be snarfing down french fries in a McDonald's.

The third and final aspect of my Parisian experience was my "Benson the homie-homie/tour guide" experience. Most of you are probably scratching your heads over this title, but to explain in layman terms: my good friend Dwight (who had never before been to Paris) came and visited me for the weekend. Wow, haha, I don't know where to begin. There are soo many good stories from this part of the Paris trip. I could probably have a blog just on the few days that Dwight and I were together. Seriously. First of all, I showed him pretty much everything that I had ever seen in Paris (maybe more) in just a couple days. We did A LOT of walking and metro-riding. I mean A LOT A LOT. My legs are still sore. Plus, Dwight was staying at a hostel in one of the shadier parts of Paris (where clans of people try to sell you single packs of Marlboro cigarettes (once again, yeah I know, really?) and where the metro station was never functioning and we therefore had to jump over the gates to get where we wanted to go--I found that the Paris metro system is extremely efficient, but rather lawless: jumping gates is commonplace and many times quite necessary).

Anyway, there is a standout story from this "homie-homie/tourguide" part of the trip that I feel does a near-perfect job at capturing the essence of the moment. Well, it was dark and rainy and getting kind-of late. And as Dwight and I had taken to walking many miles in a day, we decided to cruise down the good ole' Champs D'Elysee, because, "Hey, we might as well see the Arc de Triomphe while we are at it." This is where it gets good. After a long interrupted freestyle session, we decided to bust into speaking our own completely made up language. I mean absolute free speak. Its hard to describe, but I think it ended up sounding like a combination between Arabic, Hindi, Hebrew, French, Chinese, and your stereotypical tribal grunting. Pretty much a mess. We started doing this just for heck of it and in order to satirize the French and all the other tourist languages that we had been bombarded with. It was great fun. It was funny when we were yelling at each other and people would walk by thinking that we were just speaking a language that they couldn't understand. It was funnier when we were shouting at each other and the surrounding public reaction was general dumbfoundedness (a double-take and then one of those "what the..........???" facial expressions). However, it was funniest (I'm actually laughing outloud as I am writing this) when Dwight and I continued our "funk speak" while underneath the Arc de Triomphe. There were policemen and tourists, all of whom were giving us bizarre looks. But then, we heard, like a prayer falling from the sky, the MOST American girl talking with her MOST American girlfriends. "Um, like, do you think that this is a good picture of me with the eternal flame, or does the lighting make me look fat???? Maybe it was just that chocolate crepe pancakey thingy I ate earlier." Dwight and I looked at each other, our eyes speaking the same language. I indicated that he should make the first move. So sure enough, he goes over to girls, sweet as a baby lamb, and asks " Aba ba gubab zingaleyhi barakaa naka raka oosha?" with the accompanying hand gestures of using a camera and pointing to me standing by the eternal flame. Of course she abided. But the triumph underneath the Triomphe was that she thought we were the most sincere, funny-word speaking boys she had ever met. To her we were just from another country (maybe even France because she tried to speak to us in broken French, which I couldn't help snicker over. "Naive American" I thought). "Oh of course! La? Tu veul que....uh...uh....je prends...uh...your picture. C'est bon!! Oui!!" I am sure that if you look through our pictures, based on our smiles, you will be able to tell which picture our American friend took.

I would love to share more Paris thoughts, ideas, and experiences (the inequality and poverty smacking me everyday by the in-your-face beggars, what the land of Paris was like before the city-thought about this on the Eiffel tower, etc....), that's a little deeper and I don't have time now so....later. Doesn't it seem like deeper issues always get put off??? Anyway, this is all I got for Paris. Senegal to come soon. I know. I have been here for a month. I will get on it. However, it is generally a slower process here than in the U.S.--there is your cross-cultural tidbit to tide you over